35. 35
35
LYLA
I ’m in a hole, trying to crawl my way out. It’s filled with darkness, and every breath I take is a substantial effort on my part. I’ve been trapped for so long that sometimes the void feels like a friend, wrapping around me in a familiar embrace. Other times, its grip feels suffocating, its claws sinking into my skin leaving blood in their wake.
It’s a fine line that I’m walking, knowing I’ll either fall to my death, or climb back towards the light.
Sometimes it’s hard to decide which one I’d rather endure.
Something chimes beside me, bringing me back to my bedroom. I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling as the moonlight streams in.
Another chime.
I look at my clock and see that it’s eleven at night.
Who would be texting me this late?
Turning over to grab my phone off the bedside table, I look at the notifications. I haven’t checked my phone since this morning, so they’re piled up. Texts and missed calls from Parker and Cassie, as well as a few texts from my mom. Sitting in my email is a message from Katelyn, the lady Theo referred me to, asking when I can meet her at her office in Jasper, along with her available time slots.
I open my messaging app and pull up my conversation with Parker.
Three text messages lay waiting for me.
Please call me tonight.
I’m starting to get really anxious.
I love you.
I know that I can’t keep doing this to him. Not only am I keeping a huge part of myself from him, but I’m actively hurting him. I know that his anxiety has to be sky-rocketing and that makes guilt crush my chest.
I love you, too. I’m sorry I’ve been so MIA.
I’ll be okay. I just need time to get right again.
I turn off my phone before another notification can make its way through and lay back in the same position I’ve been in all day.
The cigarette burns into my forearm, scorching itself into my flesh.
I try to wiggle free, but a rough hand grips my wrist so hard that I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow. Despite my efforts, I’m stuck here with him.
He lifts the cigarette from my skin and I let out a hiss as it meets the cool air of the basement.
“If you keep up with this bullshit, I’ll put a hundred more burns on that fucking arm.”
I blink away the tears, hoping he won’t notice them. He hates when I cry.
“If you cry right now, so help me Lyla, I will keep going.”
I steel my spine in an attempt to portray even a semblance of strength.
I’m fourteen now, and my forearm is riddled with burns and scars from past ‘ lessons’.
“Nobody will want to be around somebody who’s so damn emotional about everything. You’re too dramatic and I’ve had enough of it.”
I nod, and the motion causes a tear to escape its prison.
“I told you not to cry, dammit! You stupid bitch!”
The next scream bellows through the house as the heat hits my skin again.
I bolt upright out of my bed, gulping down air as my chest heaves. My skin is coated in sweat and a bead falls down the back on my neck, leaving me shivering.
Images of him have haunted me every night and I haven’t been able to shake them.
Every breath I take, every step, he’s there with me. Invading my life every day, like a ghost following me around. I can’t see him, but he’s ever-present, pouncing in my weakest moments.
I wonder if I’ll ever be free of him.
I have been pushing Parker away for weeks now, and he still checks in every day via text message. So far, he has respected my need for physical space, not once knocking on my apartment door.
I once heard him come up the stairs, stop for a few minutes, and then he turned right back around and left. A text had followed shortly after, saying he hoped I was having a good day.
Part of me is dying to tell him what’s wrong. I yearn to sob in the safety of his arms, him running a soothing hand down my back like he always does to comfort me.
But the other part of me worries that if I confide in him, tell him how dark it is, that would be the end of us.
I was constantly told that I was ‘too much’ for people. Nobody would love somebody who couldn’t keep their extreme emotions in check.
And somewhere along the line, I started to deeply believe it.
I’m not sure when that shift happened, but it rings true whenever his voice breaks its way out of the box I keep it in. It feels true to my core, no matter how many times I argue with that voice.
Parker loves you.
The Hamiltons love you.
Your mom loves you.
Cassie and Cara love you.
I have this on repeat in my mind, but the other stupid fucking voice is louder.